


Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane

by midnightbluefox



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Ben Solo, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Musician Ben Solo, Rey likes music, Soft Ben Solo, what plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 11:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16117205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightbluefox/pseuds/midnightbluefox
Summary: A birthday gift for my amazing and talented friend, Ruby <3Rey sees Ben at a few concerts and finds herself wondering what his story is."Though she knew she was staring at him, she couldn’t look away. His face, his mouth, his eyes… they were all the same as before. A blend of emotion she had never seen before, like he was reliving a memory of something terribly sad, yet it made him feel alive despite his obvious sorrow.It was dumb but she wanted to go talk to him. She wanted to know who came to a dive bar like this and listened to a shit band with their damaged heart and soul in their eyes, out for everyone to see."





	Do Not Let Your Spirit Wane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dalzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/gifts).



> I hope you like this, Ruby! I'm going to be honest, I totally winged it and then realized I had 5K of dialogue and I have no idea how that even happened, but here it is hahaha <3 no smut either, sorry! But seriously, I hope you like it. I was nervous to write for you since you are literally my idol but you couldn't resist. You deserve all the gifts on your birthday :D

The first time she saw him, it was in a grimy bar, his face half illuminated from the stage lights, the other half engulfed in the dark shadows of the crowd. The band, some local group of teenagers who were just as bad as you’d expect, had started to play a song that was inexplicably enticing, if a little painful to listen to. 

It had struck Rey as strange that in that brief second she saw him across the room, his height helping him stand out, that the lighting had mirrored the expression on his face perfectly. 

A war between light and dark.

There was a bitter twist to his mouth, jaw tense and the corners of his lips downturned slightly. But his eye, the one that was in the light, was alive. Even from across the room, his single eye burned alive with a passion and longing that caught her attention. His expression was savage and sad and beautiful.

The tall, dark-haired man turned, as if he was going to push his way through the crowd, and she swore that their eyes met for a second. Nearly impossible across as crowded, pulsating room, but she felt it.

“Rey!” Poe nearly screamed in her ear, struggling to be heard over the loud music as he grabbed her ar,. “What are you looking at?”

She looked at her friend for a second, suddenly dizzy amongst all the dancing people, the beat thumping in her temples. “Nothing!” she yelled back, shaking her head. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Poe just shrugged, grabbing his boyfriend Finn and shoving his way through the mass of bodies to get closer to the stage.

Nudging her way through, Rey worked herself to the outskirts of the dance floor, standing on her tiptoes to look for the guy. She couldn’t shake off the look on his face, the heartbreak in his eyes. The desire and need to know why was pressing on her chest.

But he had vanished.

————-

The second time she saw him, she learned his name.

It was at the same bar, Finn and Poe’s favorite place to see local bands for cheap and get drunk while doing it. Rey didn’t mind coming along, watching them act stupid and, a solid fifty percent of the time, the music didn’t make her want to stab herself in the ears.

She was leaning against a table on the edge of the crowd, sipping a beer, when she saw him again. He was immediately recognizable, tall and broad-shouldered with thick, dark hair. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans and he was in a similar position as her, only a few tables away.

Though she knew she was staring at him, she couldn’t look away. His face, his mouth, his eyes… they were all the same as before. A blend of emotion she had never seen before, like he was reliving a memory of something terribly sad, yet it made him feel alive despite his obvious sorrow. 

It was dumb but she wanted to go talk to him. She wanted to know who came to a dive bar like this and listened to a shit band with their damaged heart and soul in their eyes, out for everyone to see.

Taking a healthy sip of her beer, Rey rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen up the sudden knot of tension between them. Small talk, she could do that. Just go up to him and ask if he liked the music, easiest thing possible. And her friends were lost in the dense crowd so no one was around to witness it if she made a fool of herself. 

Her cold beer tightly clenched in her sweating palm, she took a deep breath, heading towards him before she could chicken out. Weaving through tables and chairs, eyes locked on him, she rehearsed her line in her head.

_ “Hey, nice band, huh?” _

No, the band certainly wasn’t nice. In fact, it sounded like someone was stringing up cats by their tails and beating each other with garbage can lids.

_ “Hey, pretty shit band tonight, huh?” _

Definitely not. What if he liked the music and she was insulting him right off the bat? It certainly looked like he wasn’t hating it, gazing wistfully up at the stage.

Fuck. This wasn’t working. She’d just have to wing it. 

Only a few steps away, Rey opened her mouth, ready to undoubtedly make a fool of herself, praying that one of those over-enthusiastic boys singing into the microphone would let out an ungodly wail to drown out her words, when a slender ginger man stepped right in front of her.

“Ben,” he barked, and the dark-haired man turned to look at him. “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

Her target, apparently named Ben, met her eyes over the ginger’s shoulder, his own narrowing slightly in curiosity. She could feel her face turned red under his gaze and hoped that the dim lighting hid it.

He paused, probably giving her the opportunity to say something, then when she didn’t, focused back on his friend. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walked away, Ben throwing one last look over his shoulder at her, but she just stood there, beer still in her hand, hot cheeks cooling as she wondered why she even bothered.

—————

Rey didn’t see him for a third time until weeks later. Not that she was looking. 

They were at a slightly classier bar this time, listening to an indie folk band whose music was flowing straight into her soul. Hearing a band like this, feeling it resonate inside of her and soothe a part of herself that she hadn’t realized was hurting… this was what music was about.

Swaying gently from side to side, she closed her eyes just for a second, basking in the simple magic of listening to a live band in a bar with great acoustics.

“Does closing your eyes make it sound better?” a deep voice asked from somewhere to her right. 

She knew it was him before she opened them.

“Music like this doesn’t need anything to make it sound better,” she replied, meeting his gaze with her own. 

Ben pursed his lips, eyes flicking up to the stage with a considering gaze. “I suppose not. Though this is the first band that I’ve seen make you look like you aren’t in pain. I thought maybe closing your eyes had something to do with it.”

Breath catching in her chest, Rey replayed his words in her head. “I didn’t realize that I had someone watching me or I would have tried to look a bit more enthusiastic.”

He had the good graces to look embarrassed, ducking his head awkwardly. She noticed that his hands were tucked in his jean pockets again, his shoulders curled in slightly.

“I’ve just seen you at a few of the same concerts,” he explained, a nervous tinge to his voice. “This is the first one where it looks like you want to be here.”

His shy bluntness was strangely endearing and refreshing. Rey couldn’t help but grin up at his handsome face, liking the way his eyes widened in surprise.

“Let me buy you a drink,” she said.

“What?” 

She laughed at his obvious shock, giddy on the music, the two beers she’d already had, and talking with him. “If I’ve looked miserable the last few times, you’ve looked like you could use a drink. So let me buy you a beer.”

Ben chuckled self consciously, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “You can buy me one if I can return the favor.”

Swiping her mostly empty bottle off of her table, she lifted it to her lips and swallowed it down quickly. 

“Perfect. I just finished mine.”

He laughed again, tilting his head towards the bar and they headed over together.

It was quieter over here, so they didn’t have to yell to speak. The bartender watched with an amused expression as they each bought the same beer, then passed them to each other, probably grinning like idiots.

“I’m Rey, by the way,” she told him, realizing that she hadn’t introduced herself. 

A strange, satisfied smile curled at his lips. “This is going to sound weird but I had a feeling that you’d have an interesting name.”

“Well, not everyone can have a boring name,  _ Ben. _ ” She smirked at the dumbfounded look he gave her, just winking when he started to ask. 

When Ben reached out to take his beer, something about his movement struck her as odd and she stared for a second before it hit her. Two of his fingers didn’t curl around the bottle with the rest, instead sticking out at an awkward angle. 

He struggled for a second to lift it to his mouth, and she looked away, not wanting him to see her staring. 

“So,” she asked, wanting to dispel the tension settling between them, the fact that he knew she had noticed and she knew he was embarrassed. “Why do you come to these little concerts? My friends drag me along so at least I have a reason to look miserable.”

He gave her a weird, sad little smile. “I usually come to just listen… listen and remember.”

She had thought that his expression looked like he was remembering something painful, but the pure wistfulness in his voice spoke of something happier, something he missed. 

“Remembering a time when the band playing didn’t make you want to give up on life?” she teased.

Though it was a joke, his face darkened slightly. “Something like that,” he muttered.

Rey hesitated, giving him time to elaborate, but he didn’t say anything more, gaze locked on his beer. Obviously, she’d made a thoughtless comment and upset him.

The seconds stretched out and neither of them said anything. He wouldn’t even look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling something sour rising up in her throat. “I’m- I’ll just go find my friends-“

She stood, completely intending on walking away and never letting Finn and Poe drag her to another one of these dumb bars, when a gentle touch on her arm stopped her.

“Please,” he said quietly, his dark eyes sad, always so sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- my friends give me a hard time about being too serious, that I’ll never be able to pick up a girl when I’m moping around.” His face turned scarlet almost immediately as he realized what he said. “I mean, not that I’m trying to pick you up, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like  _ that-“ _

Rey laughed softly, watching him bumble his way through his explanation. 

He took a deep breath, chest expanding, and shook his head in exasperation. “Listen, what I’m trying to say is they’re right and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so gloomy. I’m… I’m not very good at talking to people.”

The sincerity in his voice was impossible to doubt, the raw, vulnerable look in his eyes begging her to understand. And Rey was once again struck but the overwhelming desire to know him, to understand why he wore his emotions so plainly on his face.

“You want to get out of here?” she blurted out.

He blinked at her.

She rushed to explain, wondering where the surge of boldness came from. “I mean, go for a walk or grab something to eat. Just go somewhere a bit quieter.” And that came out slightly more suggestive than she had hoped but he didn’t see to notice.

After a long, endlessly agonizing second, he smiled shyly at her. “I know a donut place down the street that’s open late.”

\---------

Fifteen minutes later, they wandered out onto the street, donuts in hand. Rey watched Ben take a monster sized bite out of his glazed twist, giggled around her own mouthful. He’d convinced her to get one with rainbow colored, fruity cereal topping, swearing it was perfection.

And damn it, he was right. 

“This is evil,” she told him around her bite. “Pure, delicious evil.”

He grinned, a boyish, playful sort of grin that twisted something in her stomach hotly. “I told you. There’s no turning back now, you’re going to be here several times a week now.”

“More like once a day,” she muttered and his smile widened even further. 

Ben led her over to a bench and they sat down to eat their goodies in a comfortable silence, their breaths white, delicate clouds in the night air.

They’d discussed their favorite bands on the walk over and she hadn’t been surprised to hear that he had amazing taste. Of course he did.

“So,” Rey started, shifting to look at the man next to her. “Is it insensitive of me to ask what happened to your hand?”

He must have known it was coming because he just shook his head, dark hair falling across his forehead. Popping the last bite of his donut into his mouth, he held out his right hand, tugging his sleeve up slightly. A thin red scar stood out against his pale skin, from the base of his wrist and into his palm. It was only a few inches long but those inches obviously meant a lot to him.

“I was in an accident,” he said softly. “Severe nerve damage. The doctors tried to repair it but some things were beyond fixing.”

Curling his fingers in, his middle and ring stayed stubbornly straight out, not even twitching. 

“And-“ he lifted his hand in front of her, so they could both see the noticeable trembling, his hand nearly vibrating in the air.

Hesitantly reaching out, he took her hand in his own, his skin hot. He squeezed briefly, a gentle touch.

“Weak grip too.” His smile was self-conscious and tinged with bitterness.

Ben moved to pull his hand away but Rey caught it, wrapping her fingers around him. Her thumb brushed the ridge of his scar but she didn’t flinch away.

“That must have so difficult for you. I’m sure people tell you all the time that it could have been worse, but I’m sure it doesn’t feel that way.”

Surprise crossed his face followed by a gentle understanding. “You say that like you have personal experience.” His eyes roamed over her and she knew that he was looking for a scar or a mark of some kind.

Rey bit her lip. “Not an accident or anything. But we don’t have to talk about it, I wasn’t trying to make this about me.”

Tilting his head down closer to her, he gave her hand a gentle press, the lightest of squeezes. “I know, but I’d still like to hear. It’s only fair that I learn a bit about you. I’ve been hogging the conversation.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to tell you the gloomy stuff right away. I’d hate to scare you off.”

Giving her a knowing look, Ben said, “I think I can handle it.”

Running a hand through her hair, she laughed quietly. “I suppose that’s true.” She wasn’t sure why she was opening up to him, pretty much a random stranger, but he felt strangely… familiar. It was hard to explain but she felt at ease with him, like something in his eyes reminded her of someone she knew.

“Well, it’s not anything like an accident. I just grew up in the foster care system. I was abandoned on the side of the road when I was five. People always just told me that I was lucky it wasn’t worse, that I could have grown up with abusive parents or died out on that road before someone found me. That really, I was pretty fortunate. But I never saw it that way, no matter how hard I tried.”

Ben shifted closer on the bench, his leg pressing against hers lightly. “I know what you mean,” he muttered. “Somehow, something terrible happens to us yet we’re still the lucky ones, because hey, it could be worse. But we’re still the ones who have to live with it, day after day. We should be the ones to decide how lucky we are.”

She nodded, agreeing completely. People her whole life had told her how she was supposed to be feeling, like her own emotions were invalid.

“You are the only one who gets to decide how you feel,” she told him. 

A quiet snort left his mouth, a bitter sound. “You’re the first person to tell me that. Everyone else just tells me I’m lucky that I still have my hand, that more of my body wasn’t damaged beyond repair.” He tried to curl his hand into a fist, those stiff fingers refusing to bend. “But what does it matter when you lose everything that was important to you? When you can’t do what gave your life meaning and purpose before?”

Rey thought back to the first time she saw him, the look on his face as he watched the band on stage. “You were a musician, weren’t you?”

His eyes closed slowly, like he was letting her words wash of his, trying to soothe the sting of her words.  _ Were. _

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to sound unaffected by the conversation and failing. “Yeah, I was. I played a bit of everything; guitar, violin, piano… Music was my life.”

She didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t how she had expected her night to go, to have a stranger tell her the tragedy of his life and look to her for comfort, for validation, with such an empty, hopeless look in his eyes that just screamed of a need for someone to  _ understand. _

But here they were, shoulder to shoulder, pressed together on this little bench like it was a life raft, two survivors clinging together to keep the water from pulling them under. Perhaps he had seen something familiar in her eyes too.

She had wanted to know who this man was, why he wore heartbreak and longing on his face like it was all he knew. But now that she did, it was stirring up old emotions that she had tried to bury a long time ago. She wasn’t a naive child, she knew that life wasn’t fair, and that when it decides to knock your legs out from underneath you, all you can do is just keep trying to stand back up. But sometimes, that sense of injustice, that her friends could tell her she was lucky because they hadn’t been where she had, hadn’t struggled like her, sometimes it just ate at her. Like a ravenous wolf in her own body, it ate and ate at her, until all that was left was a weak, hollow person fueled by bitterness.

Her friends never understood why some days, she just couldn’t be around people. It wasn’t personal, it didn’t mean that she loved them less. But when that bitterness, the  _ loneliness _ , when it consumed her… she just couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

Sitting here and looking at Ben, she saw a reflection of herself during those times. He was trying to hold it together, maybe trying every day of his life now, but the cracks were there. The cracks were there and all of his fear, his loneliness, his resentment, it was all oozing out as he struggled to cope with his loss. 

“I understand,” she told him softly. “But I don’t have the answers. All I know is, your life isn’t over until you decide to stop trying, to stop looking for things to live for. Your music might be gone but maybe there’s something else out there, waiting to be discovered, that will fill your life with just as much joy.”

Ben’s eyes were still closed but a single tear ran down this cheek, silver against his pale face, and she looked away to give him a moment of privacy. She should be feeling horribly awkward right now, this whole situation like a horror story one of her friends would tell her about a stranger on the bus or something.

But, she wasn’t. All she was feeling was sadness for him, sadness and a seed of hope that she had somehow made his night a little better. 

“You know,” Rey started conversationally, still looking away so he could collect himself. “I used to play guitar. Well,  _ not really. _ I was terrible at it and had no idea what I was doing, but I had this dream of being a famous musician. Completely ignoring the fact that I was scared to death of crowds and had not a single ounce of natural talent, of course.”

He laughed wetly, nudging her shoulder which she took as a sign that she could face him again. His dark eyes were a little pink but he was smiling, a tiny little thing that made that seed in her stomach blossom. 

“I don’t know if I believe in natural talent,” he told her. “Even with music, it comes down to hard work and passion. You could have the most beautiful voice in the world but it won’t matter if you don’t learn to do something with it.”

“Well, I had all the passion of a teenage girl fixated on becoming famous,” she said wryly, shaking her head at the memories. “But damn, I was awful at it. And I’m not even just saying that.”

He grinned, obviously visiting a memory of his own. “The first time I tried to play a violin, my mom yelled upstairs and asked if I was torturing the neighborhood cats.”

A loud laugh burst between her lips before she could stop it, the noise echoing down the empty street. It burst the intimate bubble they had created here on this bench and Rey suddenly realized that it was late and she hadn’t told her friends that she was leaving.

“I’m sorry,” she told Ben, digging into her pocket for her phone. “I should probably be getting back, I don’t want my friends to worry about me.”

The sudden brightness of her screen made her eyes water, squinting to see. Relief filled her when she saw no missed texts or calls.

“I’ll walk back with you,” he offered, standing on ridiculously long legs and rocking back on his heels. There was an air of nervousness now and she could tell that he was regretting setting the somber tone with their conversation.

The walk back was silent, and Rey found herself wanting to take his hand again. Instead, she tucked hers into her jacket pockets. 

“You shouldn’t give it up,” he suddenly said, when they were only a block again from the bar.

“What?”

He turned to look at her, an intense look in his eyes and she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Your music, playing guitar. If it’s still a dream of yours or important to you, you shouldn’t give it up.”

Rey was caught off guard. She knew her guitar was still tucked away in the back of her closet, but she hadn’t touched the thing in years. Honestly, she’d been so busy with everything else, she hadn’t thought about whether she would ever pick it back up again.

“I’ll think about it,” she told him honestly. What she meant was, she’d think about  _ him _ .

He nodded and then they were at the bar, standing in front of the door and that hint of awkwardness was creeping back in. Ben’s gaze was averted, firmly fixed on the wall, that bitter twist back on his lips.

“Listen,” he started, and Rey could hear it in his voice, the self-loathing, the embarrassment, the thought that he had messed this up. “I’m really-“

“Can I have your number?” she interrupted breathlessly, just going for it without a thought. All she knew was, she liked him. She liked his sad eyes and his different smiles and his large hands and the way he talked about music. The way he talked to her. She liked it all. 

His eyes flew over to meet hers, wide with surprise. “You want… my number? Like, my phone number?”

Her smile was impossible to hold back. “Yes. I’d like to see you again.”

Even if he said no, it would have been worth asking and embarrassing herself just for the stunned look on his face. But, he sputtered out his number quickly, face turning bright red when she took out her phone with a laugh and he had to repeat himself, slower this time.

With his number saved safely in her phone, she tucked her phone away. “Well, good night, Ben. Thank you for the donut.”

“You’re welcome.” His voice was a little hoarse, it’s deepness undercut by something rougher. “Good night, Rey.”

The way he breathed out her name, like he wanted to savor the taste of it on his lips, like it was a secret that he alone knew, made her shiver.

A small part of her wondered how he would say her name if she leaned up and kissed him on his full mouth.

She flushed at the thought, reaching for the door with a hand that trembled slightly.

Once inside, the swell of music welcoming her back, she glanced over her shoulder. Ben stood, his face fully illuminated in the light above the door, so she could see the disbelieving grin on his face, the spark setting his dark eyes aglow. 

Their gaze met for a brief second, hazel against brown, then the door swung shut between them. 

————

The next morning, Rey texted Ben, asking him to meet her at the bench from the night before. He responded quickly, promising he would be there

She got dressed, staring at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were red, her eyes wider and brighter than usual. There was this strange feeling in her stomach, like something important was about to happen. A twist of anxiety and excitement, of nervousness and hope.

Picking up her guitar from her bed, where she had set it this morning after digging it out of her closet, she headed out her door.

Half an hour later, she spotted Ben already at the bench, his dark hair ruffled from the slight breeze, knee jiggling in a nervous dance.

“Hi,” she said, sliding onto the bench next time him, laying her instrument cross her lap. 

He scanned her, like he was drinking in the sight of her. It was strange how she’d woken up this morning, feeling like their time together last night had been a dream. But now, in the full light of day, this taut wire of tension that strummed between them like the string of a guitar, had solidified into something real and impossible to ignore. 

“Hello,” he responded shyly, and she noticed that his hands were tucked back into his pockets. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to hear from you again.”

Rey arched a brow, not taking it personally. “I said I wanted to see you again.”

“I know, I just-“ He ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy breath. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well,” she said brightly, “I actually had a favor to ask you.” She patted the guitar gently, drawing his eyes to it. “I was hoping you could teach me to play.”

Immediately, his face fell. “I told you, I can’t play anymore.” The fabric of his jacket shifted and she knew he was curling his injured hand into a fist in his pocket.

She reached over, gently pulling it out of his coat and pressing it against the body of the guitar, laying her hand over his.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to play,” she said softly, brushing her thumb over the soft skin of his knuckles, feeling all of his fingers relax except for the two. “I said I want you to teach me.”

He watched her with an indescribable expression, so many flashing across his face that she couldn’t keep up.  

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can-“

“Ben.” His name stopped him mid-sentence. “Please. It’s just us.”

The seconds stretched out and he didn’t even look like he was breathing, like he was burrowing deep within himself to find a scrap of courage, a scrap of hope, anything to make him say yes. But she knew he would. He needed this… they both needed this, in a way. 

“Okay,” he breathed, and as the word left his mouth, his shoulders straightened, his head lifting to face her straight on. “I’ll teach you.”

She felt herself beaming at him. “I can’t promise that you won’t regret this once you see how bad I am.”

He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled through his body. “We can just start with the basics since you’re so intent on convincing me that you’re terrible. But my fee for this session is going to be a donut and coffee afterward.”

“Deal.”

As Ben gently showed her how to hold the guitar, she caught a flash of the scar on his hand, the red line vibrant against his pale skin. She let herself smile for a second, thinking how strange it was that hope could come from the most unexpected of places. A stranger in a bar with familiar eyes, a late night donut date, revisiting an old passion you’d given up on. 

If you take the time to look around, hope can always be found. 


End file.
